


Alpha Male

by blue_jack



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Wolf mentality but not actual werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-14
Updated: 2010-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/pseuds/blue_jack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In response to <a href="http://averzierlia.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://averzierlia.livejournal.com/"></a><b>averzierlia</b>’s suggestion at my prompts post: Star Trek: Weird alien pollen/device gives everyone on the ship pack mentality. Cue everyone posturing to figure out who is the top dog. (It's Kirk, Uhura is Second, Spock is Third, and Bones is First, otherwise known as the Alpha's mate.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alpha Male

Jim thinks it the primal rush of emotions that weakens Spock the most, because there’s no way to block them, no way to contain them or force them into something rational or composed. It’s not like wolves meditate after all.

Not that they’ve turned into real wolves. But Jim’s never thought so much about crew versus not-crew before, about hunger and safety and claiming what’s his and making sure everyone knows where the hell they stand in relation to him, and Spock better back the fuck down, or Jim isn't going to be responsible for what happens next. Spock is even the one who’d suggested they’d adopted some sort of pack mentality as a result of their latest trip planetside, and although he hasn’t come out and said “wolves” exactly, it’s the first animal Jim thinks of and the one he compares them to.

Spock is fast, _fast_ , and Jim knows he can’t afford to be hit again, remembering what happened the last time they grappled on the Bridge, which just makes him madder. He’s already bleeding, but he’s learned a few things since his first ignominious defeat at Spock’s hands, sparred with Spock more times than he cares to recall, and he knows his weak points now, knows Spock is just the tiniest bit off. If _he’s_ having this much trouble dealing with all the new things in his head, Spock must be going _crazy_.

The rest of the bridge crew are watching from the sidelines, waiting to see who comes out on top, and that’s fine with Jim, just fine, because it’d be a waste if he had to kill one of them ‘cause they didn’t know their proper place.

Spock’s coming at him, and Jim swears he can almost smell the adrenalin, although he’s probably imagining things since he doesn’t think Spock produces adrenalin, but then thought is gone, and there’s only anger and the need to prove his dominance, hands coming at him, bodies rolling, the jarring impact of his fists. He almost loses it when Spock gets in a good blow to his head, but he still has Spock’s ear between his teeth, and he thinks it hurts Spock even more than it hurts him. It definitely affects Spock more when Jim manages to slam him into the console so the edge bangs his side, right across where his heart beats, and even more so when he follows that up by smashing his face into the circuitry, green flowing everywhere.

And then it’s over. Spock is on his back, head turned to the side, stomach and throat exposed.

Jim’s ears are ringing, and he’s not sure he can even feel his hands anymore, but none of that matters. Spock’s throat is bared. He growls as he starts biting down, and when he hears the swoosh of the door opening and the thud of footsteps, he nearly takes a chunk of Spock with him as he whips his head around.

Bones.

Bones, Bones, Bones. He should know better than to come at him from behind his back.

Jim snarls, rising from his crouch over Spock, wondering if he’s going to have another fight on his hands so soon after the first, but Bones falters, opening his mouth, which just makes the rumble in Jim’s chest even louder. Hearing it, Bones gets down slowly until he’s lower than Jim, eyes to the floor, and that helps a bit, that helps a lot really, but Jim’s so full of rage and frustrated energy that he needs more, and he gets closer to Bones, pushing him down until Bones is nearly prone to the ground, and even that isn’t enough.

Uhura leaves the group against the wall, and Jim’s muscles bunch as he gets ready to attack, too many people moving and they all seem to be challenging him. It’s getting to the point where he thinks about making an example of one of them so they understand he means business, but Uhura isn’t coming toward him. She’s headed for Spock, and that’s alright, because he doesn’t care how they sort things out amongst themselves as long as they understand he’s in charge.

Still, it reminds Jim that it’s not safe yet. He’s bleeding, and that’s a sign of weakness, that might tempt someone to be foolish, so he grabs Bones by the back of his shirt and half drags him to a spot where he can keep an eye on everyone, cuffing him when Bones struggles to get his feet under him. It’s not a hard hit, but Bones quiets, and when Jim finally lets him go, Bones doesn’t even hesitate before he’s on his back, chin tilted up and stomach unguarded, vulnerable at Jim’s feet.

Jim can’t even begin to explain the satisfaction and power that rush through him.

He keeps his eyes on the crew, daring them to make a move, and pins Bones’ hands down just in case, but Bones isn’t fighting to get away, is fighting for just the opposite in fact, whining and arching up as Jim licks a wide, wet streak along his throat, across his chin and into his mouth, and Jim is getting interested in demonstrating another type of dominance, something in the way Bones smells and whimpers and tastes making his heart race even faster than when he’d been up against Spock.

Fuck, has Bones always smelled this good?

He inhales, keeping the scent trapped in his lungs for as long as he can, savoring every second before finally releasing the breath, dizzy with it. Jim lets Bones’ hands go, knowing somehow that he’s safe around Bones, and he looks around one more time just to make sure everyone’s where they’re supposed to be, and what the hell is Uhura doing to Spock? Not that it matters right now when Bones is so pliant underneath him, but it looks like Uhura’s going to be next in command. Not that Spock seems to be complaining.

And then Bones shifts under him, and Jim’s attention centers exclusively on Bones. He presses his face to the soft skin of Bones’ neck, prickly with hair but so wonderfully fragile, and the desire to taste Bones’ pulse on his tongue is overpowering.

“Jim!” Bones gasps, both arms coming up over his shoulders as he shivers, and Bones tastes _amazing_ , delicious, and Jim has to have him, has to have him _now_. Nothing has ever been more important than the need to be inside Bones, and it is a need, as essential as air or water, more so, and Jim tears at Bones’ clothing, growling as blood drips into his eyes.

A hand on his face makes him pause, and he looks into hazel eyes, not understanding the layers of emotions he sees there, but he can tell Bones is worried about something, and he leans down, nuzzling him, trying to convey that everything is going to be fine. Jim’s going to take care of him. Bones is his. His. He won’t ever have to worry about fighting for position in the pack, because as long as Jim is leader, Bones will always have a place at his side.

He growls when he feels the sharp pinch on his neck and jerks back, eyes searching for the danger. But everyone is still against the wall, and it’s just Bones looking at him, his hand still raised. Jim staggers upright, feeling incredibly lightheaded all of the sudden, but he can’t give in, because that would mean leaving Bones unprotected. He stumbles in front of Bones, snarling to hide his fear. What will happen to Bones if he falls? He puts his body between Bones and the rest of the crew, and claws at the darkness until it consumes him completely.

\-----

“Jim? Look at me, Jim.”

It takes an embarrassing amount of effort to comply with the order, but Jim finally manages to pry his eyes open. He regrets it a second later, because he’s got the headache from hell, and everything is too bright and sharp, sending lances of pain through his skull.

“How’re you feeling?” Bones looks so concerned, but Jim’s gaze is drawn to the vivid bite mark on his neck, and oh fuck, he remembers _everything._

“Been better,” he croaks, and he tries to look away, but he can’t stop staring at the place that proves Bones is his, and all he can think about is how Bones tastes and feels under Jim’s mouth and hands.

“Well, that would be a side effect of the pollen. You and Spock were affected the most since it was in your bloodstreams the longest. It didn’t help that you two idiots fought, increasing your heart rates and spreading it that much faster.”

Jim tries to concentrate on what Bones is saying, but it’s impossible. Bones is too near, too far, and Jim’s fingers twitch, longing to pull him closer.

“—im? Jim!”

His eyes snap up, and he’s blushing, he knows he is, but he can’t stop it, can’t stop thinking about Bones lying at his feet, submissive and vulnerable. And it doesn’t matter that it was an act. He’s seen it now, and he can’t unsee it. He doesn’t want to.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Bones says that, but he’s red, too, and he’s the first to look away. “We all did things we wouldn’t . . . it was an effect of the pollen. Whatever you’re feeling, it’ll fade in time.”

Bones walks away, and Jim can’t stop watching him until he disappears around the corner. Somehow, he doubts it.


End file.
